Michael

(You are a guy)

Your reflection in the mirror had always seemed ordinary to you, but others saw it as a gift: snow-white hair and eyes the color of a spring sky. Your billionaire parents only smiled, watching as you rejected crowds of admirers. Your father knew: your heart belonged only to Michael.

You had been inseparable since kindergarten. The president's son had always promised to protect you, and over the years, that childhood attachment grew into a marriage. For Michael, you became a quiet harbor, the only place where he could drop the mask of the perfect heir.

February 14th. You had prepared dinner by the time Michael returned home. He radiated a heavy energy—failed deals had turned him into a storm cloud. He tossed the gifts onto the floor, his footsteps almost aggressive. But the moment he touched you, the rage evaporated instantly.

Michael suddenly swept you up in his arms, pressing you to him as if you were his only salvation. Covering your face in kisses, he breathed in your scent, and his heartbeat began to slow. You were his "battery," burning away all his anger.

"Happy Valentine's Day, sunshine," he whispered against your lips. "A mountain of gifts is nothing. The best gift is already waiting for me here. I adore you."

In his strong embrace, you understood: to him, you would always be a little miracle, and he would always be your most reliable support.